


Accidentally in Love

by twangcat, varjohaltija



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Natasha Is a Good Bro, So not AoU compliant, oblivious idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 14:39:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3981829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twangcat/pseuds/twangcat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/varjohaltija/pseuds/varjohaltija
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes tiniest things catalyze big changes.  Phil Coulson being for once less than perfect makes everything better in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [This gif-set ](http://embraceyourfandom.tumblr.com/post/119534305633/the-clarkettes-he-wraps-his-lips-around-those) inspired a fun match of Tumblr porn-tennis (which took forever to get to actual porn part because neither of us was particularly experienced in writing smut) and this is the result. Shippy and tropey and absolute pleasure to write. Enjoy!

During an undercover op, Phil gets a bit tipsy. He chides himself - he rarely drinks during the mission and he certainly never lets himself get drunk around his subordinates. But god, he needed some alcohol tonight, because he’s terribly wound up being around Barton all day.

Barton’s been outrageously flirty, because Barton is flirty with everyone. Naturally Phil doesn’t entertain any hopes - he has no delusions about the market value of middle aged, balding men, who have made an art out of being unnoticeable - but Barton’s driven him hot and flustered anyway. That’s kind of new to Phil. He’s used to maintaining his composure. Maybe it is because Barton is not only gorgeous, but so smart and funny, that it makes something simultaneously painful and so very, very good unfurl inside Phil. It’s all too much and with the mission wrapping up it seems like a great idea to have a few drinks.

So Phil has this momentary lapse, as they sit opposite each other, and light catches the swirl in Clint’s hair just so… Phil feels relaxed and, turning a bottle in his hands and taking a sip, lets himself think, what would it feel like to kiss those beautiful lips, to lick his way down that goddamn perfect body, take Barton’s cock into his mouth and….

When Barton, eyes widening in shock, inhales his drink and has a coughing fit, Phil just knows with a horrified certainty he somehow let that all show. OH. SHIT. Shitshitshitshitshit. Suddenly his face is burning all the way up to his hairline. Oh god, please someone shoot him today, so that he doesn’t have to live through the embarrassment of being ridiculed or worse, _pitied_ by the junior agent.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Clint’s been watching Coulson all week and it might be slowly killing him. It’s bad enough when Coulson is in the van, pristinely dressed in those suits that show off his shoulders and that sexy voice in his ear; but this week Coulson’s been the one undercover to make contact with the mark. He’s been dressed in jeans that hug his ass, button up shirts with the buttons undone to show a tantalizing amount of chest hair, and a leather jacket that just does things to Clint’s libido. It’s been pure torture.

So he throws it all out there. When you can’t hide in the shadows, hide in center stage.

All week it’s been flirting and innuendos.

The first time Coulson walked out of the van in that outfit: “Damn Coulson, you’re here to talk to the mark not seduce him, button up that shirt!”

Over the comms while watching Coulson wait for the mark to arrive: “Coulson, if I told you that you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?”

After everything went FUBAR and the comms went down, Black Widow and Hawkeye raced into the warehouse only to find Coulson sitting calmly on the chair with three of the mark’s goons restrained and Coulson holding a handful of zipties: “Coulson, I had a wet dream about you last night that started something like this. Would you like to make it a reality?”

Now they are sitting in the bar and Clint is channelling all his sniper training into not fidgeting and focusing on drinking his cola slowly because that would mean he’s not thinking about the way Coulson’s lips wrap around that straw or how those lips would feel wrapped around his cock and damnit, now he’s half hard in his pants. Clint turns away from Coulson to try and think about something else, but he catches Coulson’s reflection in the mirror. He watches the way Coulson stares at Clint’s lips, the way his eyes dilate as they trail down his body and hover over the zipper in his jeans, and then Coulson licks his lips and Clint accidentally inhales his drink and starts having a coughing fit.

Coulson jumps up and pats him on the back to make sure he’s okay. But before Clint can get his breath back to say anything, Coulson has hightailed it out of there.


	3. Chapter 3

There are good handlers, better handlers, and then there is Phil Coulson. And the Phil Coulsons of this world just don’t let their assets choke even when they are totally mortified.

So Phil makes certain Barton will be fine, before leaving the bar in the rush. Thank god it was only a drink and few strong pats to the back were sufficient to help.

Phil is leaning against the wall and drags his hand over his face. It’s chilly outside, moon is rising, throwing it’s blue, eery shine on everything and it would be probably quite beautiful out here if Phil wasn’t concentrating just on the disaster that is his life at the moment. Neon lights from the bar flicker and make Phil feel slightly nauseous. He exhales and inhales steadily, consciously working to calm down. First time in years he really misses cigarettes.

He feels stupid. What was he thinking freaking out and running away like that? It just makes things worse. If he wasn’t going to be ridiculed before, now he surely will. Because maybe Barton didn’t notice anything? Phil huffs out an involuntary laugh – not bloody likely. He is, after all, the best marksman in the history of SHIELD. Phil has seen how remarkable Barton is at picking up the smallest details, how he reads people’s gestures and expressions. Barton definitely did see Phil openly lust after him. Dammit.

And suddenly Phil is angry. Angry at Barton, because what the fuck is he doing, with all those innuendos and shit!? He must have known all the time that Phil was interested and he’s been baiting Phil to make a fool out of himself! But somehow Phil doesn’t really think so. Barton has a terrible, tasteless, immature sense of humour - and Phil finds himself smiling despite of himself thinking of all the idiotic pranks Barton has pulled - but the man is never cruel. So instead Phil gets angry at himself. He’s a grown-ass man, the motherfucking senior agent of SHIELD, who has dodged bullets and lasers, fought terrorists and aliens!! And here he is, hyperventilating outside, getting his ass frozen, because he cannot handle the rejection? Because he cannot stand being the butt of the joke?

… because he’s been so fucking afraid to admit that this rejection would actually hurt?

The realization hits him like an NHL hockey player, when the referee’s not watching.

This actually _hurts_ him. He actually cares for Barton. Has cared for a long time. Phil pinches the bridge of his nose. It would be easier if he was just finding Barton sexually attractive. But this… this is simply sad. Not that it really matters, because no way Barton would ever care for him either way. It’s just how things are and he has accepted it. It doesn’t help the twinge in his heart, though. Somewhere behind his eyes the headache has started to dig its way through his skull.

During this week Phil has desperately wished he had his own room, because Barton has been suggestive as hell and despite the several people willing to testify otherwise, Phil is only a man. Silently jacking off in the shower with nothing but paper thin door between him and the object of his lov… lust has been a challenge even for him. Sleeping in the opposite side of shared bed hasn’t helped at all. Natasha had been very sorry to have booked wrong kind of rooms and normally Phil wouldn’t have found this such a problem. They were professionals.

He would offer to sleep on the floor tonight. He would come home from the mission with a wounded pride and aching back, but he would survive.

He sighs and heads for the hotel.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time Clint got his breath back Coulson was gone. Damn that man and his ability to blend in and disappear anywhere. Well Clint knows where Coulson is going to be in the not too distant future, so that’s something he can work with.

Up in their shared room Clint’s usual internal curse at Natasha for pranking him by getting him and Coulson a shared bed changes to a blessing and he starts to plan. Unfortunately, nothing comes to him. He and Natasha are experts at coming up with plans to survive missions that don’t have extraction strategies – why the hell can’t he come up with a plan to seduce the man who has been the center of his universe for years?

By the time Coulson returns to the room, Clint has showered, shaved, dressed himself just in a pair of boxers for sleeping, arranged himself in bed under a single sheet with the maximum amount of skin on display, and utterly failed to come up with an actual plan. Coulson putters around the room for what seems like a ridiculously long period of time, before finally changing into far too many layers of sleep clothes and coming to bed. Boxers and sleep pants? Really Coulson?

Clint refrains from sighing. Why couldn’t Coulson make this simple? All he’d have to do is say something, anything and Clint would be his, just a crook of his finger, a wink, a raised eyebrow, anything to give him hope. But he did give him hope; if that look in Coulson’s eyes earlier tonight wasn’t just wishful thinking… Surely there are things he could do to give Coulson a hint without actually crossing the line in case he’s wrong?

Coulson lays down at the furthest edge of his slide of the bed, curled up with his back to Clint. Even just looking at his back that man is fucking sexy. His t-shirt is pulled tight across his shoulders. Those broad, sexy shoulders, usually hidden behind layers of suits, on display for him drool over. It’s an act of will not to reach out and stroke him.

 _‘I wonder if he’s ticklish?’_ The thought comes unbidden into Clint’s head and once thought, it cannot be unthought. So he gives in and reaches out with one hand to stroke Coulson’s arm with the lightest touch he could manage; from his shoulder with the light dusting of freckles, down his well-muscled arm, fingertips caressing those forearms that have been driving him to distraction all week. Then he repeats the caress light enough to barely be noticeable. After the second stroke he can see goosebumps appear. Clint switches to using multiple fingertips to get a reaction, fingers moving in circle patterns and zig-zags, barely touching the skin. On the third stroke he gets a reaction.

Coulson growls, “Barton, Are you confused about who you are sharing a bed with?”

Clint chuckles and continues the feather light touches “No sir.”

“Are you under some insane misconception that you brought Lucky with you on this mission?”

“No sir.”

Coulson shakes his hand off. “Whatever you’re playing at Agent, I’m not interested. Go to sleep.”

Clint doesn’t think he could stop if he wanted to. He’s wanted to touch Coulson for so long. And if he’s read this right, then there is a chance that this magnificent man wants him, and it’s going to take more than a brush off to make him stop now. The light touches aren’t getting him enough of a reaction so he reaches under Coulson’s shirt to try there. Even this man must have a ticklish spot somewhere and he’s going to find it.


	5. Chapter 5

Phil really plans to get things straight with Barton for once and for all. But when he returns to the hotel room, Barton’s already in bed. And Phil… Phil just cannot get the words out of his mouth. He sorely wishes for everything to be back to normal and not awkward and maybe… maybe they can simply pretend this night never happened? So instead of suggesting they change the sleeping arrangements, or talking at all, he changes in silence, layering clothes against the cold that is rising inside of him more than an actual chill.

Normally Barton sleeps like a human burrito, wrapping a blanket tightly around himself. That has always made Phil feel stupidly fond of the man, even when he’s woken up in the middle of the night, cold and shivering, because somehow Barton has cocooned himself not only in his own cover, but Phil’s as well. No such luck today – Barton’s splayed out like a wet dream, way too much enticing skin showing. If there hadn’t been that embarrassing scene of his, Phil would definitely steal appreciative looks of that amazing body. But tonight he curses inwardly and resolutely keeps his eyes to himself.

Phil lays down, back turned to Barton, keeping as close to the edge of the bed as he possibly can, curled into a tight ball of regret. Hopefully he’ll fall asleep quickly. Tomorrow, everything will be better, easier… business as usual.

There is a tiny muffled noise from Barton and for all of his strength of will, Phil just cannot help the surge of want in his stomach. Goddammit. He will never get to sleep.

And then Barton starts stroking his arm.

At first Phil almost doesn’t register the light touch. But sure enough, Barton is touching him. Phil doesn’t really know what this is, but it has the feel of mocking in it. There is sour disappointment burning in Phil’s chest. He really wanted this to be over and done with.

He tries, he really tries to brush it off, snarling at Barton and hoping for him to take the hint and stop. But the man just has to keep pestering.

It’s so unprofessional, it’s so stupid, but when the next touch comes, Phil snaps. This seems to be the day of the total lack of self-control. He turns and throws himself on Barton, pinning him to the bed by the hands, pressing him down with all his body weight. He’s so angry he almost shakes.

“What the fuck do you think you are playing at!? Can’t you just let it go!?” He tries to get spite into his words, but his voice is trembling because of hurt. Why couldn’t Barton let this be? For the sake of their professional relationship at least, if not for their friendship? Phil maybe cannot have this man, but he had hoped to stay on good terms with him, because he likes being around Barton.

“Just… just be done with it, will you?! Go ahead and have your fucking laugh at a pathetic old man dreaming of the things he cannot have!”

And isn’t this ironic? He has fantasized about having Barton under him like this, of pressing his full length against all that taut muscle and heat. But this is nothing like his fantasies - just a dozen types of fucked up. He doesn’t want to touch Barton like this. He wants to hold him down and make him writhe in pleasure, wants to keep him close and make him feel good and safe and cherished. Phil falls quiet because there is a huge lump in his throat and fuck if there aren’t tears prickling in his eyes.

He’s preparing himself to be thrown off of bed, tensing all over. Barton is much stronger than him and no way Phil can keep him pinned.

But Barton isn’t moving and on his face there’s none of the ridicule that Phil imagined to find there. Barton looks shaken and maybe… sad? _No no no no no don’t you dare feel sorry for me!_ And then Barton’s brow furrows in profound confusion. There is no scorn. If anything, those big blue eyes look oddly affectionate.

Phil is totally thrown off. Barton _isn’t_ laughing at him… Barton _isn’t_ pitying him… Barton is… _what?_ and at once Phil is aware of something pressing against his thigh.

Oh?

_Oh_.

Wow.


	6. Chapter 6

__‘Yes it worked!’ _thinks Clint. Coulson’s words make no sense, but Clint’s always been more a man of action than a man of words and there is really only one way to interpret the wet dream that is Coulson straddling him in bed and pinning his arms above his head. Granted his fantasies usually tend more towards the slow love making and hours of gentle teasing touches, but if Coulson likes it rough he can work with that.__ _

Clint slowly rolls his hips upwards, relishing the feel of Coulson’s strong body above him and he hears Coulson catch his breath. Clint flexes his arms and stretched his body out under Coulson, purposely drawing attention to the very physicality of their setting “See something you like boss?” he purrs.

Coulson pushes down harder on Clint’s pinned arms, keeping his body taunt above Clint and trying gain an extra inch of distance. “Don’t… Don’t tease me Barton.”

Clint smirks up at him and drawls, “Who’s teasing? You want to come down here and kiss me Coulson?” Clint thrust his hips up, trying to grind his throbbing cock against the man. He wants this, but he still can’t tell for certain if Coulson is into this. _Damn Coulson and his layers of sleeping clothes_ , Clint slowly licks his lips and stares directly into Coulson’s eyes, trying to read what is in there. _Are those tears?_ All these mixed signals are confusing and through a haze of lust all Clint can feel is want.

“Come on Coulson. I want this” He thrusts his hips up, his hard cock and equally obvious wet spot on his boxers showing how eager he is, but he sees the doubt and hesitation in Coulson’s eyes.

Clint averts his eyes because he can’t look at that doubt. He wants this so much it hurts. He wants tonight and again tomorrow morning, he wants sex and cuddles, casual kisses and breakfasts; but if that’s not what Coulson wants, if he just wants sex, then that is still more than Clint ever thought he’d get and he’ll take it.

“We don’t have to make it complicated Sir. This can just be sex, two consenting adults doing what they want; because I want you.” He thrusts his hips up again. “I want to kiss you, I want to taste you, I want to suck you, and I want you fuck me. Do you want that Coulson? Do you want to touch me and taste me?”

He feels a shudder go all through Coulson’s body from his arms to his hips and then suddenly his arms are released and Coulson is crushing his mouth into his. The kiss is desperate and hungry: all tongue and teeth and Clint can’t help but whimper into his mouth.

Clint wraps his arms around Coulson, loving the weight on top of him and his arms roam under Coulson’s shirt, feeling all that skin he’s been looking at for years. He gently rakes his nails across the man’s back. Coulson moans and then shoves his own hips down, grinding his hard cock against Clint’s. Coulson mumbles something, but it’s in his bad ear and right now Clint is pretty sure they don’t need words because his body is getting the message loud and clear.

Clint needs this. He reaches down under Phi— _no, Coulson, keep it together Barton, he’s still Coulson._ He reaches down under Coulson’s pants to grasp his cock and his mouth waters. He wants this.

It’s the work of a moment to flip them around so Coulson is on his back and Clint can yank his sleep pants and boxers down past knees and position himself between his legs. Then his hands are rubbing up his thighs stroking and massaging the strong muscles in Coulson’s legs. He breathes lightly over Coulson’s hard cock that has already started to leak, and looks up directly into Coulson’s eyes. His eyes look desperate, there is no doubt in there now and his mouth is moving, but no sound is coming out. Clint thinks whatever he’s mouthing looks like some kind of enthusiastic consent and he’s only too happy to oblige.

Clint starts with one wet lick from base to the head and is rewarded with a strangled cry from above. Coulson reaches down and gently strokes his hair. Taking this as positive encouragement Clint wraps his whole mouth around Coulson’s cock and hungrily uses his tongue to taste him, to swirl around the head and to tease the slit.

“Oh fuck, yes Barton, please!” cries Coulson. His hands let go of Clint’s head and fist the sheets in a white knuckled grip. His hips jerk upwards and it feels like he’s using his last thread of self-control to stop himself from fucking Clint’s face. But Clint doesn’t mind. His own cock is rock hard and aching to be touched, but he’s wanted this for so long, if this is going to be the only chance he gets to taste Coulson he’s going to enjoy every moment of it.

Clint greedily devours every taste of Coulson and every wanton moan and cry. He rearranges himself with his hands pushing down on Coulson’s hips to keep him steady and gets into a rhythm bobbing up and down. He takes a breath in through his nose and then swallows his cock all the way down to the root. He feels Coulson tense under him before gasping out “Oh, oh, God, fuck, Barton, yes, please, don’t stop!”

He hums around Coulson’s cock, pleased with the response and repeats the process.

"Fuck, fuck, yes, please, oh Clint I mdnfdhssh” He cries out before biting down on his own fist to mute his cries.

Clint feels Coulson shudder under him and tug at his shoulder in warning before he’s coming down his throat. Clint laps up every drop, gently sucking him through it and enjoying every last taste and whimpering sound he makes while he comes down from his orgasmic high.

“Come here” Coulson murmurs. He’s blissed out and barely coherent, but his hand motions make it clear that he wants Clint to lie down beside him and Clint is happy to comply. Coulson starts with gentle touches, taking full advantage of all Clint’s exposed skin, and soon Clint is lost in the sensations of it. It feels like Coulson must have more than two hands and one mouth because he can feel him everywhere, rubbing up his arms, nibbling on his neck, teasing his nipples.

Clint is beyond coherent thought, “Oh fuck, Coulson please, just touch me!” His hips spasm upwards and he tries to push Coulson’s hand in the direction of his throbbing cock.

“Shhh shhh” whispers Coulson in his ear. “I’m getting there. I want to enjoy this.” Clint doesn’t know how long the slow touches go on for; he’s beyond any coherent thought, just a lot of exposed nerve endings desperate for more touches. When Coulson finally reaches into his boxers and touches him, he’s hot as hell and harder than he’s ever been.

“Oh God Coulson, I’m not going to last.” He keens and thrusts up into Coulson’s hand with abandon.

Coulson’s rough hand grips him tightly and strokes him through it. Up and down, one hand starts to tease his balls, his thumb rubs tantalizing circles over his sensitive head and Clint is lost.

“Oh, oh oh, please, oh fuck!”

Clint’s been on edge for so long, having Coulson actual touch him is almost more than he can handle and finally coming feels like his whole body is breaking apart into little pieces in one earth shattering moment before coming back together.


	7. Chapter 7

Phil wakes up, feeling uncomfortably warm. Something is off, but he doesn’t really know what. His sleep-groggy mind tries to provide few flashbacks of the time before he passed out, but before he actually can parse together any coherent thoughts, there is something warm snuggling tighter against his chest: an armful of sleeping archer. And suddenly Phil is very awake. And remembers. Oh yes. So very clearly.

He had lost his temper and then situation had combusted into a totally unexpected direction that wasn’t even hinted at in the mission parameters. For the first time in years Phil hadn’t been sure what to do, had been flying in the dark. But thankfully his co-pilot had seemed to have a plan. Such a great plan. And Phil had been more than happy to just hang in there and follow the lead. He blushes. Jesus. He recalls that at some point he had thought that they really should talk. But the little that had been remaining of the layers in his cognition that are in the charge of reason, had shuddered closed the moment Clint had swallowed his cock.

The aforementioned traitorous member is now perking at the memories. Phil shifts carefully to get some distance between his hips and the man on his arms. At this point in their relationship it might be polite not to wake someone up in the middle of night by poking them in the small of their back with erection.

_Relationship?_ Phil’s thoughts screech to a halt. He needs to slow down. He has no idea what Clint wants – and yes, it’s Clint at this point… someone who just blew you, and whose come is flaking off of your stomach should definitely be called by their first name. Maybe all that Clint wants is sex? Maybe this was a one time thing, an experiment, even a mistake Clint will regret? Something cold stirs in Phil’s stomach. But… it hadn’t seemed like that – Phil remembers surprising affection on Clint’s face, how he felt like he was really cared for. Or it could have been just a reflection of his own dreams, something that his lust-addled mind wanted to see.

But even if it was just this once, Phil cannot regret a thing. It had been amazing and he will cherish this memory for the rest of his life. He presses his nose to Clint’s slightly damp, soft hair and inhales, trying to etch this sensation into his brain as well. He lets himself think of dangerous things - how it feels so right to have Clint on his arms, how nice it would be waking up every morning like this… he thinks of lazy Sunday afternoons and quiet evenings, snuggled together on the sofa, of vacations and movie nights. Maybe they will never happen, maybe this is all there will ever be, but for this fleeting moment he wants to believe.

He’s so deep in his thoughts, nuzzling Clint’s hair and ear, that he only realizes Clint is awake, when a careful hand lands on his head. Fingers card gently through Phil’s hair, and he can feel the fears that had risen again, dissipate.

Clint lets out a sleepy, satisfied sound and turns his head in a feeble attempt to meet Phil’s lips with his. The result is mainly inelegant mouthing on the approximate region of Phil’s nose, so, with a groan, Clint stretches and rolls around to face Phil fully. Clint’s eyes are still heavy lidded and foggy with sleep and he closes them as he snuggles even closer to Phil, mouth finding mouth.

The kiss is unhurried and tender and so fucking perfect Phil thinks he will die. They kiss and kiss and kiss. Sweet nibbly kisses gradually deepening, but still keeping slow like mountains forming. Clint’s hand has found it’s way to cup Phil’s face, and gentle caresses of his string calloused fingers make Phil shiver. Phil want’s to keep on doing this forever. While last night was a pyroclastic flow, this is a volcano erupting on the bottom of the ocean, slow desire layering, flowing into every crevice of his being until all of him is burning and everything is Clint.

They are touching from head to toe, rutting painfully slowly against each other, still kissing. Hands are exploring everywhere, unhurried and luxuriating. It’s tortuous and wonderful and feels unreal, like a dream. And maybe because it just might be a dream Phil is afraid to do anything to stir it.

In the end, it is a tiny, needy noise from Clint and him starting to speed up, that makes Phil to come to. He knows they could easily get off like this, grinding their cocks together and that it wouldn’t take much time at all once they start racing for the climax, but Phil doesn’t want it quick. He needs more. He rolls Clint onto his back, grabbing his hands. The gesture replicates, and maybe not that accidentally, where they started last night.

Instead now Phil isn’t looking down to the man beneath him with anger but with scorching lust and something much deeper he tries to keep at bay but can’t.

"See something you like?" Clint is staring at him, breathless and biting his kiss swollen, red lip in the way that does things to Phil. The archer is significantly smarter than he lets people see and Phil knows it isn’t coincidence that he is now repeating the exact words from yesterday and that there is more to that question than just asking for praise. Phil is impressed by this man. Clint is so strong and beautiful and unafraid. And that makes Phil want to be brave too.

"Yes, Clint, I see something I like very, very much." His voice is soft and quiet and nearly catches in his throat. It’s just _ridiculous_ how juvenile he feels. The radiant smile that spreads on Clint’s face makes Phil forget all his insecurities. He dives down to capture Clint’s lips once more before starting to kiss and caress his way down that artwork of the body.

Clint’s hands moving on Phil’s skin feel burning hot. Phil’s cock is hard and leaking and in desperate need of attention, making him want to rush, but more than to come, he wants to savor this: the taste and feel of Clint, the moans and whimpers and sighs he can pull out with his hands and tongue and teeth.

He has watched Clint from afar for so long, admired this perfect physique, the mesmerizing combination of strength and speed and agility. And, for almost as long, he has revered Clint’s patience, perseverance, his honesty… how he, despite all that he’s been through, still trusts people, and regardless of the cruelty he’s seen and experienced, Clint is one of the kindest souls Phil has ever met in their line of business. Sure, he hides behind the roles of the class clown and dont-fuck-with-me-unless-you-want-to-die badass, but everybody has their masks. They keep us safe. They protect the core.

Phil wants to dig to the center of Clint, rip out all the masks, to be trusted with the man beneath. He longs to be good to Clint so badly that it hurts.

He still cannot quite believe he is allowed to do this, that he can touch. The soft sounds of pleasure Clint is making and the way he starts involuntarily bucking against Phil’s mouth as Phil licks closer and closer to his cock, are absolutely thrilling and driving Phil crazy.

Clint’s cock is hot and hard, glistening with precum and it throbs in Phil’s hand. Phil licks his lips and glances upwards at Clint, who is panting heavily and running his hands over his nipples.

"I’m so fucking close Phil, please, fuck, just…please…" Clint’s voice is hoarse with arousal. Flushed and gleaming with sweat, he looks utterly debauched. He is most beautiful thing Phil has ever seen. Everything in Clint is perfect. Including his cock that twitches, making Phil to turn his attention to it.

Phil’s mouth is watering. He wants to taste Clint, to let him fill his mouth, he wants to feel the weight of this cock on his tongue. Someday, he wants to feel it inside him. Oh the things he yearns to do to Clint. He wants to spend hours worshiping Clint with his hands and lips and drive him crazy with want over and over again. But not now, because Clint’s begging for release, and Phil cannot deny this man anything.

He breathes over the head and licks away tangy fluid that is oozing out of the slit. Clint lets out a hitched cry. Phil takes the cock into his mouth, still laving the slit with languid strokes of his tongue as he moves back and forth and slowly descends lower and lower, spit and precum easing the way.

Clint feels amazingly good, much better than Phil had imagined. And those wonderful, wanton sex-noises Clint makes, the way he writhes, how his muscles move and contract under Phil’s hands… nothing could have prepared Phil for that. He can’t help pressing his aching erection against mattress, groaning around Clint’s cock, when pleasure spikes everywhere in his body. That proves to be not the smartest move: He has to let go off Clint for awhile to grab the base on his own cock in order not to come. He’s resting his forehead on the sharp edge of Clint’s hipbone, panting wetly against the heated skin and tries to back off from the edge with all his willpower. Holy Hell, when was the last time he was this turned on from simply sucking someone off?

Phil quite quickly calms down enough to continue, but Clint is already keening and reaching to touch himself. Phil slaps Clint’s hand away, causing Clint to whine in disappointment. Whining turns into moans as Phil gets back to business, licking the whole length of Clint’s cock from the base to tip and continuing to suck him.

Phil had planned to do something ordinary, but on a whim he decides to impress Clint with deepthroating. Maybe it’s a stupid idea - it’s been a while, fuck, it’s been decades, but relaxing his jaw and throat happens easily, like it feels just right to let Clint invade his mouth like this. When his nose hits Clint’s stomach, he stops for a while, breathing steadily and enjoying the musky scent and the tickle of the coarse hair. When he finally begins to swallow, above him Clint, who has fallen absolutely silent for a moment, eyes wide and all pupils, bursts out into a chant of moans and curses, his hands tightening into Phil’s hair.

It doesn’t take long for Clint to start twitching in the way that tells Phil he’s fighting the urge to buck his hips. Phil moves his hands to grab Clint’s ass, and pulls towards himself in encouragement to do just that. Clint pushes up to Phil’s mouth, once, twice, and comes with a shout.

Phil chokes a bit, not quite capable of swallowing quickly enough and he has to pull back. Clint’s cock is still pulsing strings of come onto his stomach as Phil coughs it out. It isn’t bad, but his eyes have watered and he really would like to have some cold water now. He recovers quickly and starts cleaning the mess he made, licking Clint clean carefully, ending up suckling the softening cock until Clint takes a hold of him and drags him up.

—

Clint wraps his arms around Phil, pulling him close. It should feel suffocating and even scary, but Phil trusts this man with his life, and now, it seems, with his heart as well. He feels safe and… loved?

The hands that could easily snap his spine are stroking and squeezing gently along his back and kneading his ass, sending sparks everywhere. Clint claims his mouth with surprising softness and Phil’s lips part so naturally to let him lick in, that it seems like they’ve done this dozens of times. He knows Clint can taste his own come, and the thought makes his cock that had wilted a bit during the coughing harden again.

He shifts to rock himself against Clint’s firm, muscular thigh and can’t help moaning into Clint’s mouth. He can feel how Clint smiles before pulling back and taking some distance. Phil almost whines at the loss of the friction and warmth and security. He grasps Clint’s arms, trying to draw him back. The need, the urgency to be touched in every possible way is almost overwhelming.

Clint brings his other hand to Phil’s neck, and the other snakes in between them, pressing firmly on Phil’s chest. It should amaze Phil how easily that soothes him. But this is Clint, Hawkeye, who sees farther and closer and deeper than other people. Who sees him now and gives him what he needs.

“Just look at you…” Clint growls as he lets his gaze roam all over, before his eyes lock back to Phil’s and his grip on Phil’s neck tightens. There is something feral in him, something Phil hasn’t seen before. He wants to succumb to that, let Clint take care of him, devour him whole.

Phil doesn’t know, really, what makes Clint’s eyes so heated, what can it possibly be that evokes such hunger. But it is there and it’s heady feeling to realize that he does want Phil that much.

Clint surges forward, and now kiss is just heat, all aggressive sucking and biting. Teeth clash and catch some flesh somewhere and taste of iron fills their mouths but Phil doesn’t care, because his whole body is now just a raw nerve ending of pleasure. Clint’s hand on his chest feels like a branding iron, and as Clint rakes downwards, digging his nails into the muscles on Phil’s abdomen, he can’t wait anymore.

Phil breaks the kiss to get some desperately needed air and to pant out, “Clint - - your hand - - my cock - - now.”

Clint grins, “Yes sir.”

Clint’s strong hand envelopes his cock and a few strokes are enough to make Phil curl groaning against Clint and bury his face into the crook of Clint’s neck. His abdomen starts to tremble and every muscle in his body tenses into a tight string of anticipation.

“Come for me babe” Clint whispers into Phil’s ear and twists his hand as he simultaneously brushes thumb over the head of Phil’s cock. “I want you to come on me. I want you to mark me.”

In the end Phil isn’t certain whether it’s the endearment or the idea of his come smeared on Clint’s abs or the symbolic claim it withholds that tips him over the edge. Something tenses even tighter than before and springs free with a whiplash causing punch. He bites down on Clint’s shoulder as he shudders through the orgasm.


	8. Chapter 8

Driving Phil Coulson to the brink, transforming that perfectly composed man into something so animalistic and raw, a man who would want to mark him and claim him as his own is going to be something Clint remembers forever.

Phil collapses down on top of Clint, and tenderly kisses the red mark on his shoulder. “So good Clint,” mumbles Phil sleepily, “I always knew you’d be so good.”

Clint wants to say something, to find out from Phil what this is; but Phil’s mumbling has trailed off and he’s still putting sweet little kisses on his shoulder, like he still wants to cover Clint in kisses but doesn’t have the energy to move his head. It’s so endearing and so classically Phil to want to be so thorough even when he’s half asleep. Clint smiles to himself and wraps his arms around the older man. He’ll think this through better when he’s more awake later.

The next time he wakes up it’s already passed seven and Phil is still sleeping. Clint can’t remember the last time he woke up before Phil, but he’s grateful for the time to think. He plays the night through in his head, remembering and analyzing all the details with the precision of a sniper. Phil hadn’t been willing to look at him when this started. When Phil realized Clint had seen his lusty gaze, he fled; and it wasn’t until after Clint had said they didn’t have to make it complicated that Phil had finally kissed him; but he also seemed so passionate and caring when they made love. But it’s Coulson so of course he would be a caring lover, he’s gentle man and a good man.

Clint shakes his head to himself and starts over again. He needs to find a way to put the facts together in a way that makes sense. They’ve worked together for years, there had to be a reason why this happened tonight. He groans silently to himself. He doesn’t want to think this through because if he does he might not like the answer -- he just wants to be happy and to enjoy this.

Clint holds the sleeping man a little tighter. He’s dead to the world but Clint imagines that he responds by trying to burrow a little closer to him. In the night they’ve rolled around so Clint has become the big spoon, wrapping himself around Phil and covering both of them with blankets. Phil smells like sweat and sex and everything good in this world. He is wonderful and kind, smart and subtly funny, classy and now, it turns out, also a sex god - a man like that is not meant for for a man like Clint. Phil deserves someone better, someone educated and sophisticated someone he could be proud to show off.

Clint is a tactician. It’s safer to be seen as the class clown and the mouthy archer, but even that appearance is a tactical choice and he can use that skill here. His heart is so far gone he can’t trust it to make this decision but he’s aware of that and his libido is well and truly wrung out, so this is a good time for him to think things through. He’s not relationship material, but that still leaves a few other options: this could be a one time thing, it could be stress relief after missions, or they could become friends with benefits. The last option makes his heart skip a beat. He’d like that. It would mean building on the relationship they already have and adding more to it. Phil would probably want to keep it a secret, but Clint can do undercover, and they already spend so much time together it wouldn’t be suspicious.

But is that what Phil is going to want? The sex was good. Oh the sex was so good! Clint feels his dick give a little twitch at the memory and shakes his head in surprise. Yes, the sex was very good. And Phil instigated the second round so obviously he thought so too. He and Phil are compatible. They already have pizza nights and movie nights. Phil has taken him for a drive in Lola twice and Clint knows his favorite donut stores and brings him lunch on days that he is so busy in the office that he forgets to eat. They could add sex to pizza nights, makeout sessions to the long drives in Lola, secret kisses to their lunch breaks; Phil will eventually find someone better, someone to actually date, but until then he’s going to get as much of this wonderful man as he can.

If Phil wants him.

That thought slices through Clint’s daydream like a cruel knife and Clint needs to know. He needs to know now. If Phil doesn’t want him at all, that heartbreak is going to hurt and he would rather know sooner rather than later.

Clint takes one last moment to memorize the feel of Phil’s skin next to his and savour the feeling before craning his neck to kiss Phil. He wakes up easily with a smile and returning the slow kiss. Eyes still closed and voice rough from sleep he hums “Good morning Clint.”

“Good morning yourself Phil,” whispers Clint against his lips.

Clint opens his mouths and kisses into Phil hard. He doesn’t want to give this up. Phil moans against him and deepens the kiss. Clint is starting to wonder if he’s going to be up for round three when Phil starts to pull away and wraps up the make out session with a gentle closed mouth kiss. Clint tries to chase Phil’s lips for more, but Phil places a hand on his chest keeping him a small distance away. “We really should talk Clint.”

Clint sighs. He knows this conversation needs to happen, but no one could blame him for thinking the kisses were more fun.

“Barton, I need to know what you want from me,” says Phil firmly. And that helps. The firm tone helps ground him. That tone from Coulson has gotten him out of literally life threatening situations, he can trust Coulson to help him navigate through this.

“Well, what do you want from me Coulson?” hedges Clint.

Phil looks him straight on but his eyes are pinched with worry. “I want more of this, but only if it’s what you want too.” Phil hesitates, “I’m your supervising officer. We’ve known each other for a long time. I can’t control the gossip at SHIELD. I don’t want you to feel pressured or like our colleagues are judging you. There are a lot of reasons why we shouldn’t go through with this.”

“We could not tell anyone?” says Clint hopefully.

“Is that what you want?” asks Phil carefully.

“I think it would be easier in the long term…” Clint’s heart is pounding, is Phil going to go for this? “Is that what you want?”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Phil looks across the bed at his archer and reaches out to run one thumb along his cheekbone. “No Clint, it’s not.”

It’s breaking his heart to turn Clint down, but he knows himself too well to accept. The sex was amazing, but Phil also loves the courtship of dating, surprising his boyfriend with sweet gifts, movie night snuggles, and bringing them breakfast in bed -- and no strings attached casual sex with Clint would destroy him. He already feels pangs of jealousy when he knows Clint is more than just flirting with other men, the idea of both having Clint and having to share him would eat him up until he became someone he didn’t like.

Phil continues wistfully, “I don’t think I can do that Clint.”

Clint’s face falls and it’s killing Phil to be the one hurting the man he knows in his heart he’s already in love with, but putting himself in a position where he has to lie about how he feels everyday to everyone would be tantamount to putting himself in an abusive relationship and he’s not going to do that. But he’s also not going to give up without a fight.

“Clint, this has been amazing; and I do want more of this, but I also just want more.” Clint hasn’t pulled away from him completely so he brushes a hand through his hair, just to feel it once more. “You are brilliant and beautiful, brave and strong, you make me laugh and I trust you. I want lazy Sunday afternoons and quiet evenings, snuggled together on the sofa, I want vacations and movie nights; and I don’t want it to be a secret.” Phil’s voice cracks but he pushes through. “Would you want that with me Clint?”

 _Wait... what?_ Clint’s every thought has frozen in surprise. _Coulson wants what?_ This is unexpected and in such a screaming conflict with his expectations that he doesn’t know how to react. He realizes his mouth has fallen partly open and he has stared at Coulson for way too long a time. His reaction obviously seems like a refusal outside, because Coulson starts to pull back, face slowly turning into a mask after a brief flash of something soft and injured. The voice in Clint’s head is shouting for him to get a fucking grip immediately.

Seeing Clint’s reaction was painful. Phil wasn’t expecting such a shocked silence. Like what he had suggested had been utterly unexpected, something Clint could never even consider. Of course it was. Phil is old and boring and terrible relationship material. But anyway, ouch. Well… that’s it then. It hurts, and he knows it will hurt for a long time, but its good to have things cleared between them now rather than get much more deeply hurt later on. He starts to pull away, to rush to the shower or anywhere, where Clint doesn’t see how wounded he is now. But Clint stops him, mouth opening and closing as if in looking for words.

“Why?” Sometimes Clint is certain his brain hates him. “Why would you want _me_?”  
It’s such a pathetic thing to ask, but apparently Clint’s life has now turned into a teen movie. And well, it is a good question.

Clint’s question takes Phil by surprise. There is undisguised uncertainty in Clint’s voice. Phil tries to look at him into eyes, but Clint averts his gaze, shoulders tensing as if to preparing to be hit. He isn’t joking. Is it really possible that archer thinks so lowly of himself? That he wouldn’t be good enough for someone like Phil? And just like that, something clicks into place.

Phil wants to smack himself. He is such an idiot… Every psych evaluation he has read, the digging he had done into Clint’s past during the recruiting process, all the unofficial unrecorded facts he has gathered of Clint’s life… All that hurt. Phil’s chest feels like it’s been ripped apart. All that pain is in Clint and Phil just wants to take it away. Wants to make Clint see what he sees; a brave, intelligent, kind man. Who Phil respects, admires and… loves. He is at loss of the words, because there is so much he needs to say, needs to make Clint understand.

Clint’s voice is quiet and lost as he gathers the blanket into his hands, pulls it closer in an unconscious effort to hide away and disappear,

“I mean… yes, yes I want that, I want you. I want all the things you said.” “I just…” he trails off in an embarrassed huff and turns his head.

The joy that bursts inside Phil is almost as painful as the sorrow was a few moments earlier. A grin is forcing itself on to his face, because Clint wants him! There is laughter bubbling inside of him, but Clint is still not looking at him, is still coiling away… So Phil reaches out, cupping Clint’s face, keeping him from leaving. He can’t let Clint leave, because he wants this man to stay with him, forever.

Phil turns Clint towards himself, seeking an eyecontact.

“Clint. I want you. I want to date you. Out there for everyone to see. I want it because you are a wonderful man. I can say that many times if you need me to. I can make a twenty page report of the pros and cons of dating you and show that it’s the best thing I could do. ”

Clint looks at Coulson’s eyes, always so kind. He looks at the warm smile quivering in the corner of his mouth. He still isn’t quite certain how and why, but he understands that he’s been suddenly given all he ever wanted. Words are difficult, but he surges forward and hopes that the kiss will speak for itself. Kissing Phil is wonderful. It was awesome before, but now, as the truth is slowly sinking in with its full force, with all its ramifications, it is more than perfect. Now he can feel the love and caring that’s behind every gentle caress. Clint is overwhelmed and realizes, in horror, that there are tears running down his cheeks.

Phil notices it too, and pulls back. To Clint’s surprise he’s not the only one who is crying. Phil’s eyes are full of tears too, but he’s also laughing. Awkward, choked chuckles that are nearly sobs. And that is silliest, most beautiful thing Clint has ever seen - so he starts laughing too and kisses Phil again. They are giggling and crying and kissing and it is so absurd… but Clint wouldn’t want it any other way. Because all this shit has been stupid and they are idiots.

Eventually they calm down, Clint still pressing small kisses to Phil’s collarbone as Phil is rubbing his nose into Clint’s hair.

Phil breaks the spell. No matter how he wants to stay here now, they need to move. “We should get to shower, if we don’t want to miss our flight.” He untangles himself from Clint and sits up.

Clint pulls a face and tries to bury himself inside the covers, throwing a pillow over his head.

“I don’t wannaaaaa.”

OK, this is familiar. Phil knows how to deal with sleepy Barton. He stands up, shaking his head and nudges Clint.

“Come on, specialist, get up and I’ll promise you some favors later on. And I’m not talking about those usual donuts now.”

Clint raises the pillow slowly from his face and stares at Phil in mock disapproval.

“Did you… just try to bribe me with sex?”

Phil smirks. It’s the most indecent, lecherous smirk Clint has ever seen. “I might have. Did it work? Of course, if you prefer donuts… ” Phil shrugs theatrically and lets out a dramatic sigh. Phil, who is gloriously naked, hair tousled and smiling at Clint… this isn’t in any way fair bargaining.

“Oh, fuck you.” Clint groans and throws a pillow at Phil who just catches it and laughs.

“Yes, that’s definitely on the table now. Or on any vertical or horizontal surface of your choosing.”

Clint blinks. And Phil laughs some more before winking and heading to the shower.

Clint likes seeing this playful side of Agent Coulson. He wants to keep seeing it. He’s just about to rise and follow Phil, when there is a loud knock and Natasha shouts through the door:

“If you lovebirds want any breakfast before we need to leave, you’d better get yourselves moving. No more fucking around.”

Phil honest to god blushes. It is adorable and Clint is certain he couldn’t love this dork any more even if he tried. He gets up and walks to Phil.

“She’s right you know. You’d better take a shower first while I can pack our gear. If we try to shower together…”

“Yeah.” Phil says mournfully.

\----

As they arrive to breakfast room, they find Natasha already finishing.

“I’ll start packing the car. Be quick. It’s a long ride to the airport and weather isn’t that good.” She folds her napkin neatly and rises, offering a chair to Phil.

Before sitting down he takes a hard look at Natasha and opens his mouth, but she beats him to it, explaining with a tired tone, “You both are obvious. And oblivious. And really, really loud.”

Phil snaps his mouth shut.

She smiles and pats Clint’s cheek, muttering something in Russian before heading out. Clint laughs.

“What was that?”

“She said she is happy for us even if we are idiots.” Clint reaches to take Phil’s hand.

Phil entwines their fingers and chuckles.

“Well, she’s not wrong.”

\- The End -


End file.
